The Branches of life
by TheCrystalEevee
Summary: It's been many years since a hobbit came back from Erebor and planted a fine Oak tree, and hobbits, dwarves, and elves alike no longer walk the earth, just Man. Though the years pass by the shire remains as untouched as it has ever been, a single tree growing steadily on. A source of comfort to a man who's dreams are plagued by a war he's never been in. Or has he?


**Author's Note:** **Hello everyone! I'm back! No it's just occurred to me that I have never mentioned that I've never mentioned the fact that all my stuff is unbeta'd... woops. Well now you know! So for the past few months I've been obsessed with middle earth more than the rest of my life (I've always been a fan) and well i could help myself when i fell in love with Bagginshield. So, without further ado, I give you my first bagginshield fan fic. **

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The Shire is a small town about 3 to 4 hours west of Bree. It is surrounded by soft, rolling hills and lazy rivers. In this small town there is a tree. It is large in both height and width; some roots are even bigger than a man. It is the focal point of tourism for this town, and it is said that this tree is older than record itself. To the peaceful inhabitants of the Shire it has always been and always will be. This tree is an Oak Tree.

For as long as Bilbo Baggins can remember the Great Oak has always been a steady, consistent presence in his life. And for as long as he can remember it has always felt familiar. Now is not a familiarity born of being raised around it like one's home or family, no this familiarity is different. He cannot place how or why, but then again he is only 8 years old and doesn't really care.

He is 11 when his parents die, his mother of sickness and his father only a few short days after, overdosed on sleeping pills. The tree has never seemed more comforting than it did in the months following. After that he becomes more reserved and politely declines any attempts to friendship. Its better this way, at least he can't be hurt.

Every day he goes to the Great Oak. It is the only constant thing in his life. Don't get him wrong his Godfather, Gandalf, is nice and everything but it's not the same. Sometimes, though, when he looks at Gandalf that same familiarity the Great Oak gives him is there. As the years drag on that familiarity gets stronger.

Bilbo wakes in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face. It is the dream again. He has had these dreams since he was young, but this particular dream has only recently started to occur. He does not like and he wishes his mind would stop showing him such gruesome things.

It is always the same. It starts with him in a dulled world, the colors faded and the sound muffled. That doesn't mean what he hears is any less haunting. The cries of agony, the blood curtailing screams, the clash of metal on metal and sickening crunch of bone breaking or necks snapping. All around him people are dying. All around him is blood, death, and violence. Still in his dream He ignores it heading for a large mountainous hill, where oddly enough, there are people riding on large Billy Goats to the top. That is his destination. That is where he needs to be.

When he gets to the top he finds two people standing there. Their faces are blurred and their voices muffled as is his own voice. Then there is a yell and when he turns to see the source he is met with even more blurred shapes, one of which is holding another dangerously off the cliff that he stands on. The person holding the other says something before running the man in his grasp through with a blade. He then let's go to let the body fall...

His dream goes black and when it comes into focus he is cradling a figure in his arms. The pain he feels in this moment is like the pain he felt when his parents died, only somehow it seems to hurt even more. In this part he can catch parts of what he and dying man are saying, but not much. Then speaks of food and warmth and he in turn talks of the arrival of eagles. When the man looks up he does not see. It is at this part that Bilbo always wakes the pain of loss fresh in his heart.

Bilbo gets up, takes a shower, and pushes the dream to the back of his mind, using the technique his therapist taught him. He is enjoying a peaceful breakfast when there's a knock on the door. He looks ruefully at it before getting up to answer just as another knock rings in his empty home. The knocker is none other than his godfather. He smiles and welcomes him into his small, yet spacious home. It has been a while since Bilbo has seen him last, probably since he turned 18. He's 27 now.

"What brings you back to the Shire," Bilbo asks.

Ever since Bilbo was old enough and Gandalf was sure he would do fine with on his own, Gandalf had taken to what he does best. Traveling. He might call in from time to time and he does send post cards (he even went as far as to invite Bilbo to come once which was denied), but as far as physically being in the Shire is concerned he wasn't.

"Oh nothing really, just helping a friend find a good place to relax with his family," said Gandalf.

There was something more to It than that, Bilbo knew, the twinkle in his eye was telling enough, but Bilbo also knew there would be no getting out of the old man if he didn't want it to. So instead he just smiled and accepted it and invited Gandalf in for tea.

He was walking through the aisle of the town's one and only grocery store when he was nearly bowled over by shopping cart. One of the reasons, Bilbo suspected, shouted out an apology before making a sharp turn around the end of the aisle and wheeling out of sight. A man around his age with long, blonde hair came running up not a minute later, muttering a breathy apology about eccentric teens and sprinting off after them. It took a good five minutes to shake himself out of his stupor, letting out a sigh as he went about his business.

He was walking to his favorite spot at the Great Oak when he saw him. The first thing he noted was that he was a stranger. In a small town like the Shire one knows everyone and everyone knows them so it was safe to conclude that he was tourist. There was also the fact that he was gazing at the tree.

He stood with his back to Bilbo, hands clasped behind him. His stance was rigged and filled with tension. He was a good head taller than Bilbo with long black hair streaked with grey that shone silver in the sunlight. If Bilbo had to hazard a guess on the stranger's age he'd place him in his thirties. The man was muscular and broad in build, a stark contrast to Bilbo.

"Hello," Bilbo says hesitantly

He'd rather not talk to the man, but he was a Baggins and Baggins's are never rude. The man turns around to address him and Bilbo can't help a gasp as he stares into stormy blue eyes. He's seen those eyes before he knows he has but, he cannot tell why, where, or how.

"Hello," the man says with a curt nod.

That voice he's heard it too.

"Beautiful isn't it," Bilbo says, walking up to the man. "The Great Oak."

"Is that what it is called," the man asks.

Bilbo smiles "Not the official one, no, but it's what I call it. I'm Bilbo Baggins by the way. It's nice to meet you," he says extending a hand.

"Thorin Durin, the pleaser is all mine," the man replies.

There is a cold, distant detachment to the words. Like he's only saying them to be polite when in reality he could care less.

"Well it was nice meeting you Thorin Durin," Bilbo says, and walks away.

He is on the hill again, watching as the figure runs his blade through the other he is holding of the ledge, only this time the one being stabbed is clearer before. He cannot see the face nor can he see the clothing, but what he can see is golden hair. When he is kneeling by the dying man's side speaking of eagles, he can see stormy blue eyes, and the words he hears are in that deep familiar rumble.

Bilbo finds that he is seeing more and more of Thorin Durin, but in a small place like the Shire, such things are to be expected. He has not spoken to the man since the moment by the tree, but when he catches sight of Thorin's frame he feels that same strange familiarity that only the Great Oak and Gandalf had seemed to spur in him. He is walking hone when Gandalf slides into step beside him, easily keeping pace with Bilbo's shorter frame.

"Gandalf," Bilbo says in greeting.

"Hello my dear boy," Gandalf says.

"I was wondering if you'd like to join me at the Great Oak celebrations," he continues.

"Gandalf you know I'm not one for parties," Bilbo absolutely did not wine when saying this.

"Nonsense! You love that tree more than anything in the world! It's about time you showed it," was Gandalf's reply.

And that was how, only a few hours later, Bilbo found himself in a big, crowded area at the base of the tree. He opted to stick close to Gandalf rather than go off on his own. Big crowds always made him nervous, especially when tall people are involved.

The Oak Festival was a tradition in the Shire, one that dated back so far it was much like the tree, always there. The Oak Festival consisted of many booths and tents all ranging from face painting to wood carving to food making. The theme was, respectfully, Oak tree and the festival itself takes place in the middle of autumn, when the leaves are dipped in red, gold, and brown. It's an all-around wonderful gathering that Bilbo had enjoyed when he was younger. When his parents were still alive.

His godfather, it seemed, had a specific destination in mind if his pace was anything to go by. Bilbo opted to just follow, knowing there would be no word of the destination in mind until they either arrived or his godfather felt the need to inform him. It was after a bit of walking that Gandalf finally slowed down coming to a stop in front of a table seating seven people. Most, Bilbo came to realize, he had already met.

There was the two teens who had used the shopping cart like a bumper car and the golden haired man who had apologized for their antics, Thorin, an elderly couple, and young couple. Judging by the cozy atmosphere around them Bilbo was willing to bet that they were family

"Well look at who finally decided to show up," said the elderly man. "And who's this?"

"Hello Thrain. This is my godson, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said.

Bilbo let out a muffled greeting, hoping a hole would appear and swallow him into the depths of the earth.

Then Thrain grinned and offered a hand, "hello, my name's Thrain and this," he said pointing to the elderly woman, "is my wife Fris."

"Hello," she said kindly.

Thrain points to the young women sitting in between both fair haired men, one of who has his arm draped around who shoulders, "That's my daughter Dis and her husband Nili. These two here," He points to the teens, "are their sons, Fili and Kili. Those two," he points to the other fair hairs man and Thorin, "are my sons, Thorin and Frerin."

Bilbo mutters another greeting, looking at his feet rather than their faces. After the introductions Gandalf and, by association, Bilbo joined the family at the table. After a few minutes of awkwardness Bilbo eventually became more comfortable around. Normally it'd take longer, but the strange familiarity he had come to expect from the tree was coming of the teens and Thorin in waves, and Bilbo found that even with Thorin's detached state he found that he was able to converse with him the most.

When Bilbo got home he went straight to bed, falling asleep instantly. He dreams that he is sitting on a broken bench surrounded by ruble and stone. He is holding an acorn when Thorin comes to him, a of look outrage on his face demanding to see what is in Bilbo's hand. Bilbo jumps before showing Thorin it and, upon further questioning, reveals that once the quest is over and he is home, he will plant it and watch it grow, remembering the good, the bad, and everything in between. Thorin smiles at him, big and true, and something lifts in his chest.

The dream fades to black and he is back on the hill again only this time it's much worse than any time before. This time he can see who's being impaled, and he wished he couldn't. Fili, the teen He had just met, was being held precariously of the edge of the old ruins of the watch tower. His captor, a tall, pale man with many scares upon his face and oddly pointed ears. If Bilbo was being honest, he'd say that the man did not truly look like one. He says something in a terrible language that has shivers running down his spine. Nothing, not even seeing it before, could have prepared him for Fili's murder in such vividness. Even as the seen fades to black he can still here the echoes of Fili's lifeless body hitting the ground.

And now, now he's holding Thorin. Now he hears the whole of the conversion and the pain is just too much to bear this time. He cradles Thorin's body in his own pleading for Thorin not to go. As Thorin's eyes begin to glaze Bilbo tells him the eagles have arrived and it'll be alright, but as he finishes and Thorin looks up, Bilbo knows it will be for the last time.

When Bilbo wakes his sobbing is uncontrollable. He doesn't care that it is the middle of the night nor does he notice the chill of the air, he just needs the tree because the pain of loss is much too great and he hopes to find solace in its familiarity.

He hobbles along the road, eyes unseeing, feet walking on the trail, guiding themselves. When he gets to the base of the tree he curls up into a ball in one of the smaller roots, sobs racking his body. It is here, with the dream fresh in his mind that he remembers.

He remembers the good...

_"Did you here that lads? He says we'll blunt the knives."_

The bad...

_"Take him... and no friendship of mine goes with him,"_

And all the things in between...

_"... I found something in the Goblin tunnels. My courage,"_

It makes him cry even harder. And when he sleeps, he dreams of mountains and rolling hills, of a warm hearth and gold, of bright eyes and cold bodies.

When he wakes he is not in the stuffed away in the nook of a root, but in a soft bed with a warm blanket draped over him. He is still too drained from the events of last night to properly assess his situation. With a robotic like fashion he gets out of bed, walking to the voices he can here outside the room.

When he walks in everyone falls silent. He stares into their faces, unable to help himself from wondering how it is that they look like they did all those years ago, even their names are the same.

He catches Thorin's eye, his already frayed mind snaps completely and he falls to the floor, a broken mess. He's barely aware of the arms that circle around him or of the hushed words their owner speaks. He doesn't notice the two other pair of arms that find their way into the embrace, doesn't even register the deep timbre of Thorin's voice or quiet voices of Fili and Kili as they mix in.

When Bilbo finally comes out of the dark place which his mind as wandered, he finds himself leaning against Thorin's chest. He feels more than sees Fili and Kili are there with him on the couch they are currently occupying, and Bilbo faintly registers how big the couch is. All he can think on at the moment is that Thorin is here, he's alive, and if his eyes weren't enough then surely the heart beating in Bilbo's ear was proof enough.

He closes eyes and sees a pair of stormy blue eyes staring back at him, glazed and inserting. He snaps his eyes back open. When he finally bothers to tune in on the conversation he hears Frerin saying, "And we're supposed to believe this!?"

"I know it's a lot to take in and sounds crazy, but please believe me when I say it's true," Thorin says with the closest thing he'll ever get to pleading.

"I'm sorry sweetie but how can you expect us to believe..." Thorin's mother trails of not sure how to continue.

"I-It's tr-true," Bilbo says voice still broken.

The whole room falls silent surprised to hear him speak after such a long silence. He feels Thorin stiffen, making to pull away, but Bilbo just buries his head into once Dwarf Kings chest.

He should be angry, hurt, and bitter after what Thorin had done to him, but he's not. The dwarf had pulled through in the end, had fought for the right things, had sought to make amends. Bilbo had long since made peace with Thorin, if only the stubborn dwarf-now-man could see that.

After seeing the state Bilbo was in and truly recognizing it the rest of the family had no choice to believe it, and if the family watched the three once dwarves more carefully to see what changed from then on, no one mentioned it.

Bilbo is chopping up some vegetables when he feels two muscular arms wrap themselves around his waist, a bearded face nuzzling the crook of his neck. He lets out a fond sigh, pausing in his cutting to savor the feel, leaning back into the embrace. It's been ten years since he remembered and still he can't get enough of Thorin. Some nights he'll wake in a cold sweat afraid that it would have all been a dream and he'd wake to an empty smial with a cold place on the bed where Thorin should be. Thorin was always there though, assuring him that everything was real.

Today was special. Today the shore would see a gathering the likes of which it hasn't seen since before even the Great Oak was planted. Today The Company was getting back together.


End file.
